"Why did you leave?"
My voice was a hoarse whisper because I'd asked this too many times before. I asked this when I passed pictures of my parents in the house, when parents' evening was a disaster, when I was kept awake at night by the thought that I'd done something that resulted in my own father leaving home and not coming back.
My mother died three years ago.
More specifically, she was murdered. I preferred the word 'died' because it was gentler and, although I didn't like to admit it, I was still coming to terms with her death. Then, to rub salt in the wound, last year when my adopted sister Mikasa, who'd lived with us since we were both nine, and I had a sleepover at our friend Armin Arlert's house, my father left home and by the next morning it was impossible to say where he'd gone.
No note. No explanation at all.
My sister and I waited. Weeks passed and we moved in with the Arlerts, a family that only consisted of Armin himself and his grandfather. None of us ever had an easy childhood.
We waited for nothing. Nothing happened. My family were Mikasa, Armin, and his grandfather, although we never saw much of the latter, who was an avid traveller.
But still I saw my father in my dreams.
"Why did you leave?" I repeated. I was sitting at a table, opposite the man who I saw so much of myself in.
"I can't tell you that, Eren." His eyes were dull and betrayed no emotion behind the glasses that created such a barrier between us. It was annoying, knowing that this was simply a version of my father that my mind had created to keep myself occupied in my sleep. My real father wasn't like this, from what I could remember.
"Why not? Don't you think you owe your own son an explanation?"
"Why would I?"
I sighed. "Because I don't have a clue whether or not my dad is even alive, let alone what the hell he's doing. It's not fair on me! We all lost Mum and then I lost you too! So did Mikasa. I don't understand why you left and it's driving me crazy!"
I couldn't pinpoint the moment where the dream ended and reality took over, but before I knew it I was ranting at the ceiling, which would probably give me more answers than I was getting in my sleep.
I blinked a few times, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the morning. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It was 5.37AM and the world was grey.
"Eren?" I looked over to the door and saw Mikasa. She looked worried, although rather comical with her hair sticking up like she'd stuck her finger in a socket. "Are you okay? I heard you talking in your sleep."
"I'm fine," I replied quickly.
"Did you have a bad dream?"
"Yeah, probably. I can't remember." I wasn't sure why I was lying to Mikasa. After all, she'd probably have told me that dreams like that were a natural part of grief. But she wasn't having them as far as I knew, so it seemed pretty pathetic to be having them in the first place. I didn't want to be weak.
"Go back to sleep, Eren," My sister smiled gently. "I'll wake you up at seven."
"Seven?"
"We have school today, remember?"
"Oh. Yeah. Wake me up at seven. Or, like, not at all," I groaned as I pulled my duvet up to cover my face. My sister laughed quietly and I heard her leaving.
My hand went to the key I kept on a chain around my neck. It was the key to our old house, and the last thing that tied me to my parents other than blood itself.
I couldn't remember falling asleep but somehow I woke up again at seven. Then I fell asleep again, and at quarter past seven I was being attacked by a pillow to the face.
"Wake up, Eren!" I caught the pillow in question and pulled it away from Armin, his blonde hair washed and damp. I rolled over and yawned.
"Alright, desperate times call for desperate measures," Mikasa muttered and the next thing I knew, I was drenched in cold water, wide awake and spluttering.
"What the hell was that for?" I yelled at the two giggling teenagers who held identical empty jugs.
"We're really sorry, Eren," Armin said quickly, his blue eyes wide as he backed away from my bed. "But you weren't awake and we have school today -"
"You're such an asshole," I said as I jumped out of bed and started chasing my terrified best friend, who was essentially my brother.
At five to eight we were all somehow on the bus, and by twenty to nine we were sat in registration, deep in conversation with Connie and Sasha about our summer holidays even though we'd only seen them both about two weeks ago.
"It was so big, you should have seen it!" Sasha said loudly as we received questionable glances from some students on a nearby table. " I'm talking about a burger, don't be so childish," She huffed as she elbowed a snickering Connie in the ribs.
I'd asked Connie many times if he'd ever date Sasha but everyone knew her true love was food. Of course, Sasha was a brilliant person. She was enthusiastic about everything she did, uplifting whenever anybody felt bad, and a fantastic wild card on the sports teams; nobody could predict what Sasha Braus would do next. But it was true that she started most conversations by talking about food.
"Eren Jaeger to Mike Zacharius' office straight away, please," A shrill voice on the overhead speaker called.
"What have you done now?" Connie asked, laughing.
"I don't know, do I? School started literally five minutes ago!" I held my hands up in an innocent surrender.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and started to make my way to Mike's office. He was a PE teacher and the football coach. Football was the only thing I excelled at in school. In everything else, Mikasa and Armin outshone me.
I knocked on the door of his office and opened it. Mike was sitting behind his desk looking unusually sheepish. I sat down on the other side of his desk.
"Hey there, Mike," I greeted him when he said nothing.
"Good morning, Eren," He said quietly. This wasn't like him. Mike was generally a pretty full-on person. When I first tried out for Maria Comprehensive's football team, he actually sniffed me. It was a strange experience.
"What's up?" I asked.
He took a deep breath. "Eren, I'm sure you know how much I care for the football team, and I appreciate how much commitment and determination you put into playing."
"This doesn't sound good, Coach," I said reluctantly.
He ignored this. "I've heard from Hannes that you've been having anger management sessions." Hannes was the school counsellor. It was true that I went to him for anger management. I could already see where this conversation was going.
"So much for confidentiality," I slumped back in the chair.
"After much discussion with Hannes and the headmaster," Mike said in reference to Dot Pixis, a nice man, but more professional than anything else, "we've unfortunately decided that it's best for you not to be on the team this year, for the safety of the other players."
It annoyed me that I couldn't control my anger, because by getting so pissed off at Mike, I was showing him exactly why Hannes and the headmaster didn't want me on the team. I couldn't help it, though.
"You can't do that. That's not fair!" I sounded childish. It was the second time I'd used that argument today, and it was pathetic. "You're talking about me like I'm some kind of wild animal. Of course people are going to get injured on the pitch! Hannes even told me once that sport is one of the best ways to let anger out, so you're just going to make it worse!"
"Don't shoot the messenger," Mike warned.
"You know I'm one of the best on the team! Who's going to take my place, Jean Kirstein?" I spat his name like dirt. Jean and I hadn't got on since the day we met, when we both tried out for the same position on the team and it went to me.
Mike looked at me for a moment and then back down at his desk.
"No way," I said.
"I'm very sorry, Eren."
"Jean is replacing me?"
He nodded.
"Is this some kind of twisted joke?"
"Jean Kirstein is an excellent football player," Mike said in a pathetic attempt to defend himself.
"Jean Kirstein makes me want to set myself on fire," I snarled as I grabbed my bag and stormed out of Mike's office.
The bell rang. I checked my new timetable. Double English, with Jean. "Someone pass me a fucking lighter," I muttered to myself as I joined the stream of teenagers heading to their lessons.
When I got there, I sat next to Connie, on the opposite side of the classroom to Jean. He made no attempt to hide his hatred as he glared at me so I didn't either. A lot of the girls, including Mikasa to my dismay, thought Jean was one of the most handsome boys in our year, and I was pretty sure that his best friend Marco Bodt thought the same, but I'd told Mikasa countless times that there was a reason why I had that spot on the football team and not Jean. Now I couldn't say it.
"You alright, man?" Connie asked.
"Yeah, whatever," I replied as I narrowed my eyes as I stared at the self-centred arsehole across the room, who muttered something to Marco. Marco looked alarmed. I had no idea why the hell he was friends with Jean but I admired the fact that he could put up with someone so far up his own ass. That would explain why his face looked so shit.
Our teacher was a blonde woman who introduced herself simply as Miss Nanaba last year when we started this awful GCSE English course. Today she took five minutes to give us the expected lecture about the importance of this year, and the effect it would have on the rest of our lives. I'd never thought much about the future but it involved football. Well, maybe not anymore.
"The first thing I'd like to tackle this year is your group oral assessment." The class groaned. There were a few snickers at the word 'oral' but that was nothing new from a set two class that was mostly made up of boys. Nanaba started reeling off a list of groups she'd prepared. Yet again, complaints were thrown around the classroom as students were grouped with people they despised and dragged their feet across the room to sit by them, so when she reached my name, I swear to God my heart was literally in my throat. Or figuratively, as Nanaba would have corrected me.
"Eren Jaeger, Connie Springer..." I looked at Connie and we both grinned. "Marco Bodt, Jean Kirstein."
My first day of Year 11 was going so badly that I actually looked around the room for secret cameras from those practical joke shows on TV. I wondered if there was a camera crew hiding behind the bookshelf at the back of the class, but then I thought that no one would pull a prank this cruel.
"Come on, Eren, we should move," Connie said as he sighed and moved his chair back.
"No."
"What?"
"I am not moving. He can move over here."
"He has a name," Connie reminded me.
I looked at Jean. Jean looked at me. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. Connie grabbed my arm before I could mimic Jean's actions, and I was dragged across the room. Connie pushed me into the chair furthest away from Jean and sat down next to me.
"I don't like this either, you know," Connie said quietly. "I'd rather be working with Sasha."
I ignored him. "What the hell is your fucking problem?" I hissed to Jean as he glared at me again with a glint in his eyes that reminded me somewhat of Satan watching the world burn.
"Your existence." He snapped.
"I can't do this," I said loudly to Nanaba as I turned around. She dropped her hand from the whiteboard and looked at me in despair. Behind her were the words 'ORAL ASS', written neatly on the board.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you, Eren?" Jean said mischievously. I could feel about twenty five pairs of eyes looking at me. "You're trying to make a fool of our teacher and you're only making a fool of yourself."
"Shut up, Jean," I muttered as I looked down at my hands, my fingers drumming against the desk.
"Yes, I think Jean is right," Nanaba said. "If you can't survive for ten minutes without mocking my subject, I don't know how you'll get a job in the future."
"Yeah, your football career's really not looking likely now," Jean grinned.
"Shut up, Jean." I couldn't allow myself to argue. I was half an hour into my first day of Year 11 and I would not be chucked out of class and sent to the headmaster's office because Jean wanted to have a bit of fun in an English lesson and take the piss out of the kid with anger issues.
"You should really watch your behaviour this year," Nanaba said sternly. "Now, I know you have trouble controlling your temper, but we can't have a repeat of last year –"
"Shut up!" I shouted. "Both of you, shut up and leave me alone!"
Nanaba looked furious, Jean was on the verge of a hysterical laughing fit, and I was already preparing myself for a row from Pixis. Then the first good thing in the whole morning so far happened. Our escalating argument was interrupted by someone opening the door.
I knew most people in school. No, actually, most people knew me. They knew me as the boy who couldn't keep his fists by his side, the boy who was suspended for three days when I beat the shit out of Jean – God, it was satisfying – in Year 9 because he said I couldn't play football, the boy with a sketchy home life. But I didn't know the sixth former in black and dark green uniform, shorter than most of my own class, with no expression, dead eyes and black hair over a questionable undercut that stood at the door with his hand resting lightly on the door handle.
"Am I interrupting something?" He asked, although I could tell from his tone of voice that he didn't actually care whether or not he was.
"Nothing important," Nanaba replied as she glared at me.
The boy looked at me, studying me with a small amount of interest as I looked back at him and held my breath. "No, I don't suppose anything important really happens in an English classroom."
Nanaba did not look happy, but at least she wasn't angry at me anymore.
"That's an interesting topic to study," He said as he averted his gaze to the whiteboard. "I thought it was on the A level course. Is there a DVD to go along with that?"
"Are you here for any particular reason?" Nanaba asked, frustrated. "Or are you also here to mock my subject?"
"Some unprepared teacher needs a spare workbook," He replied, staring at the hastily organised piles of books at the back of the class and looking unamused.
"You can find them yourself," Our teacher answered shortly as she turned back to the board and wrote the letters 'ESSMENT'. I watched the sixth form student walk to the back of the class and eye the wreckage of books with more hatred than what was in Jean's eyes when he looked at me. He picked a workbook up reluctantly and walked out without even thanking Nanaba.
"Role model," Connie whispered.
Nanaba started handing out information sheets. Apparently she'd completely forgotten about blaming me for something I didn't even do on purpose. "More like saviour," I muttered. "Who was he, anyway?"
"No idea," Connie shrugged. "Never seen him in my life."
"What's up, Eren, got a crush on the new midget from Year 12?" Jean sneered.
"I'm not gay, Jean," I reminded him.
"No proof to show that you're straight, either," He leaned back in his chair.
Okay, that was true. I was one of the few virgins in Year 11. In my defence, I was hardly even legal and even though I dreaded talking to Mikasa about anything to do with relationships, she'd drilled it into me that I should not have meaningless sex. It wasn't exactly a successful conversation, though, and it ended up with me being pinned to the floor and Mikasa punching me repeatedly because I'd tried to sneak away. I would've loved to have heard her attempting to have the same conversation with Armin. Mikasa was the responsible one of the three of us. Armin liked reading Wikipedia pages of cities we couldn't afford to visit, crying about the fact that we couldn't afford to visit them, and playing strategic games such as Monopoly. That usually ended disastrously, too. I barely knew what patience was, let alone had any myself.
Anyway, I didn't reply to Jean. Instead I looked down at the information sheet on our desk and saw that our topic was whether or not marijuana should be legalised in the UK. It was controversial. It would cause many arguments between Jean and me, but then so did everything.
"So, what do you think, Freckled Jesus?" Connie asked Marco, and I quickly zoned out. I somehow managed to get through an hour and a half of English by making notes on the debate that the rest of my group were having, and listening to Connie complaining about the fact that boys and girls weren't allowed in the same group so he couldn't work with Sasha. Breaktime rolled around quickly and I was first out of the class.
"Eren!" I heard Armin call from further down the corridor. I waited for him and Mikasa to catch up with me before we started walking together. They were in the top set, the same class as I'd been in two years ago before our GCSEs started, and before I started missing most of my lessons to go to pointless anger management sessions with Hannes that I didn't benefit from in the slightest.
"How was your English lesson?" Mikasa asked me.
"It was shit."
"Don't swear, Eren."
"Well, tell Jean not to piss me off, then!"
Mikasa and Armin both gave a familiar groan. They were both aware of my hatred for Jean, but I was pretty sure that Mikasa enjoyed the attention that he gave her and Armin was just plain scared of him. "What's he done now?" Armin sighed.
"Right, you heard me being called to Mike's office this morning, right?" I began.
"You should call him Mr Zacharius," Armin said quietly.
"Whatever. So I went to his office and he kicked me off the football team because I have a small anger problem."
"Small anger problem." Mikasa repeated, deadpan. "That's like saying a mass murderer has a small killing problem."
"My point is that Jean Kirstein is replacing me," I continued, almost growling as I said his name. "And then I went to English and he was being a cocky douchebag like he always is and then he almost got me in trouble by making it look like it was my fault that Nanaba wrote 'oral ass' on the whiteboard!"
"Scandalous," Mikasa murmured.
"You've had an eventful two hours," Armin said as he let out a small laugh.
"This isn't funny," I protested hopelessly.
"Let's talk about something that actually matters," Mikasa said loudly. "I want to start a girls' football team."
"You do that, Mikasa," I muttered.
"Yeah, you try telling the male-orientated PE department that we should have a girls' football team, Eren." She replied. "It's so disgusting and embarrassing that we ignore the talents of the athletic young women in this school. Mr Pixis should be ashamed of this place!"
Number one on the list of things to know about Mikasa Ackerman: She was a passionate feminist, and rightfully so; I agreed with her on this one. Now that Jean was on the boys' football team, it would be shit. There was no question about it. It would be shit. So we needed another team to represent the school, and there were tons of girls in our school that could kick Jean's ass any day. A girls' football team was a necessity.
"I bet I could get Mike on our side," I grinned as we stepped outside. "He's not that old, is he? He must be in his twenties or something. He's not as old fashioned as the rest of them."
"We could make a petition!" Armin suggested enthusiastically.
"Yes, Armin, a petition," Mikasa said with a small smile. Then I felt a hand the size of a small ship on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Reiner Braun and his crooked nose looking down at me with a grin, his brown haired friend Bertholdt Fubar standing behind him. Their friendship reminded me somewhat of Jean and Marco's friendship, except Reiner wasn't archenemy material and Bertholdt hadn't been nicknamed Jesus.
"Ready for football this year, Eren?" Reiner asked in the deepest voice known to mankind.
"Um—" I began.
"Actually," Mikasa interrupted, "Eren is going to help me start a girls' football team this year, so he won't be on the team."
"Really?" Reiner briefly looked surprised, but we all knew that although Reiner was definitely a close second to Mikasa, my sister would always be the star athlete of the school.
"Yeah," I nodded. "It's just the right thing to do, you know? For society."
"For humanity!" Reiner yelled. "Good for you, Eren."
"Hey, Eren," Jean called from across the schoolyard, kicking a football about with Marco and Connie. "I'll try my best to live up to the standards you've set. Won't be hard, though."
Marco looked at me apologetically as if to say sorry for my absolute prick of a best friend, and kicked the ball over to me. Reiner tried to intercept it as I tried to kick it over to Connie, so instead I kicked it as hard as I could away from him, right over his head.
And onto the roof.
"Nice one, Eren," Connie rolled his eyes.
I ran over to the drainpipe that ran up the side of the building, which luckily for me was more of a cabin than a building. In fact, I managed to climb up the drainpipe without as much hassle as, say, Jean would make.
The problem was that the roof itself was sloped, so it was an absolute bitch to walk across to get to the football, which was on the other end. By the time I'd wobbled halfway there, I was seriously regretting my impulsive decision.
"Are you stuck?" I heard Bertholdt ask worriedly from below.
"No, I am absolutely fine," I replied confidently as I pictured Jean suppressing a laugh. I didn't dare to look down. Okay, so maybe I kind of was stuck.
"Poor Eren Jaeger," Jean called sarcastically. "You're absolutely useless."
Ignore him, I told myself.
"Can't get a girlfriend, can't even get balls," He continued. "Maybe this is why you were kicked off the team."
"Just ignore him," I hissed to myself.
"Oi." That wasn't Jean's voice, or any voice I was familiar with. I panicked and thought it was a teacher, and I froze, my arms held out at my sides for balance. "Don't be so quick to call Eren Jaeger useless when many would say the same about you."
I braved a quick glance down, and at first I didn't see anything. After a double take I noticed the sixth form student that came into English this morning.
"And I'd strongly recommend," The nameless boy said slowly, "that you don't diminish the brat's ability to get laid, because I have seen your face twice during my entire life and I can already tell by the hideous look of it that you aren't getting any either, from whatever gender your preference is."
For the first time that morning, Jean Kirstein was speechless.
I actually managed to count to seven before he spoke again. "What the hell are you going to do, carry him down yourself?"
"I'm five foot four, you brainless idiot, do you really think I'm capable of doing that?"
He didn't give Jean a chance to speak again. I watched him walk away as he came into better view, and just as he was about to go inside, he turned to look at me. I gave him a grateful smile and he simply nodded. As he went inside, I vowed to thank him in person when I had the chance.
I had been saved from defeat by Jean Kirstein twice today, by the same person. But at the end of the day, or at least the morning, I was still stuck on a fucking roof.